


A For Effort

by aisydays



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autistic Damien, Cause I am a coward, I think?, Multi, Non-binary Arum, SO, Teachers, large art embedded, man I do NOT know how to use Ao3, not mobile friendly, you can pry that from my cold dead hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-10-20 02:49:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17614004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aisydays/pseuds/aisydays
Summary: Damien Evlavis may have only been working at Citadel Academy for five years now, but he already has a reputation as one of the best teachers in the English department. Everything seems to be going well, until the school hires a new librarian. Although Ms Keep is an absolute delight, and a welcome addition to the overworked English department, she comes with a complication. Namely her interpreter and assistant, Arum. Arum is needlessly haughty, painfully short-tempered... and the most attractive person Damien has ever met (his fiancée not included). As the two are forced to work together, they may find they have more in common than first assumed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the Penumbra Mini Bang 2018!
> 
>  
> 
> I'll be updating this fic Mondays and Fridays throughout February, as well asposting links to the incredible art drawn for this piece!

“… and we have finally found a replacement for Mrs Bird!”

Mr Absolon’s voice boomed across the staff room, authority ringing in every syllable. Damien Evlavis looked up in shock from where he was surreptitiously texting his fiancée under the table. While the beginning of term meeting was very important, and he would never dream of disrespecting the Head of English, they had been sat in the staff room for forty minutes now, listening to Absolon drone on about the new uniform codes and behavioural policies. Rilla, on the other hand, had been let off work early and was currently sat in the car park texting Damien memes and pictures of her with the various cats that lived around the school, which in Damien’s defence were infinitely more enjoyable.

Yet the news of Mrs Bird’s replacement was enough to push even Damien to shove his phone into his pocket and look up. It had been two years since the school’s librarian had retired and having to cover her had been slowly driving the whole department insane. Every free period was spent sat behind the desk, trying to work out how much lesson prep and marking you could do whilst still being alert enough to keep the room from dissolving into chaos.

Mr Absolon didn’t actively react to Damien’s frantic cover-up, but he could tell the teacher was disappointed. Then again, the Head of English seemed to be perpetually disappointed by something or another – Damien was usually better at avoiding his ire. It made his stomach churn and fists clench, like he was a year seven being scolded for an untucked shirt. His heart pounded in his ears as he focussed his attention back to the meeting, and Absolon continued. “Mira has found someone to fill the position of librarian so we don’t have to cover for it any longer, thank goodness” Gentle laughter filled the room, tinged ever so slightly, Damien thought, with guilt at the knowledge that he’d been the one who was assigned the majority of the library shifts. He was, after all, the youngest and least experienced, and therefore the least likely to make a fuss, which had annoyed Rilla to no end. Not that Damien minded of course, but sometimes he would stop to consider Rilla’s complaints, and a small part of him pondered which had come first, his willingness to volunteer himself for every job, or the staff’s assumption that if there was something unpleasant to do, Damien would do it.

“Anyway, she’ll be in later, along with her… assistant, Arum” It wasn’t that Absolon sneered the word, or spat on the ground like a Disney villain, but there was something about the way he seemed to take just a little longer over it that didn’t quite sit right. Normally Damien brushed off these things; he could never read people properly anyway, relying on Rilla to convince him that he hadn’t accidentally offended teachers or parents or random passers-by on the street. But there seemed something off about Absolon’s tone of voice. Damien knew the Head of English was part of the panel that interviewed prospective teachers, so he must have already met both Arum and Ms Keep. It didn’t bode well that he already reacted this way. This Arum must be awful.

Absolon continued. “As Ms Keep is… mute, her son will not only be taking on the role of her assistant but will act as an interpreter of sorts. Apparently she prefers to communicate through sign language” spoken with an air of what almost seemed to Damien to be irritation, “which I assume none of you know?” The teachers around him shook their heads and murmured, and Damien bit his lip. He did, in fact, know sign, had a certificate in his desk proclaiming that he had a level 5 qualification to be precise. But admitting he knew it would lead to questioning, and the need to come up with an excuse as to why he bothered learning it. Damien really didn’t want to have to admit how sometimes his brain just wouldn’t let him speak, that words died in his throat where they usually flowed, like a dam plugging a raging river. That his parents, faced with a child who just wouldn’t communicate, had armed themselves with books and DVDs and endless amounts of patience in order to find a way to get through to him.  
Still, the part of Damien that begged to please, that never turned down a request or ignored a chance to volunteer, forced him to raise his hand like one of the students in his class and clear his throat.

“I do.”  
~~~~~

In all the confusion of the beginning of term, Damien didn’t get a chance to visit the library. Not until he had his first lesson in there: ‘quiet reading time’ with the Year Eights, or as it was better known in the English department, ‘herding kittens’. 30-odd 12 year olds, who hadn’t seen each other for six weeks and had absolutely no desire to sit quietly and read being squeezed into the school’s library for an hour and forced into silence. In other words, hell on Earth. Damien could hear them even as he walked towards the library, a wave of noise hitting him punctuated with yells like buoys floating on top. He took a deep breath, let out a long sigh, straightened his spine, and walked over to where his class was waiting.

Immediately he was ambushed by students.

“Sir! Sir! Guess where I went over summer! You’ll never guess sir, go on!”

“Hey Mr Elvis, my little brother’s in your English! You know Griffin? He’s my brother!”

“Sir, are we meeting the new librarian today?”

Damien held up his hand in the universal teaching signal for ‘please for the love of God be quiet for two seconds’ and waited until the hubbub finally died down.

“Thank you 8L2. I hope you all had wonderful holidays, but it is time for lessons now.” A groan interrupted him but Damien just smiled and continued “As it’s our first lesson in the library we will be meeting the new librarian and her assistant.”

Excited murmurs broke out amongst the students. Damien knew that those of them who had an English teacher for a tutor would know about Ms Keep; he’d told his Year 11s on the first day in between handing out new planners and permission slips for upcoming trips. He sighed and raised his hand once again, patiently waiting for the children to settle back down. “Thank you. Now for those of you who haven’t been told by your tutors, I need to tell you something. Ms Keep is…, well, the thing is…. she…” Damien fumbled for words for a second, suddenly struck by the realisation that oh god, he had to explain this to the children. He was saved, however, by a low voice coming from behind him.

“She’s mute.” The voice rasped. Damien closed his eyes just for a second, breathing deeply through the panic that had coursed through his body at the unexpected intrusion, and turned to face the owner of the voice.

The person standing before him was tall. Very tall. Admittedly, most people tended to be taller than Damien; even Rilla stood a few inches taller than him, and that was when she was in flats. But this, this was taking the mick a little bit. The stranger was a good head taller than him, and their skinny frame made the difference even more striking. Their long hair tumbled over their shoulders, escaping the messy bun some of it had been pulled into. Damien, attempting to mask his surprise, put on a wide smile and stuck out his hand to be shaken.

“Thank you for clarifying that” he said, trying to convey both his relief at being saved from what would certainly have devolved into a storm of stuttering and his slight annoyance at being interrupted. He really didn’t appreciate being made to look a fool in front of the Year Eights, who were only just beginning to emerge from the cocoon of terror that was their first year at secondary school and becoming rebellious teenagers for the first time. Already he could see a few whispering about this mysterious stranger. Damien cleared his throat in an attempt to regain control over the situation. “My name’s Mr Evlavis, I’m one of the English teachers here. I… don’t believe we’ve met?”

The stranger eyed Damien up and down, expression unreadable. “Arum. I’m Ms Keep’s assistant. She said we had a class in.” Before Damien could say anything, however, the other man had turned on his heel and walked away, leaving the entrance to the library open and Damien in a state of mild shock. He blinked and pulled himself together, leading his class into the library to begin their lesson. Somehow, he managed to get every child sat down, at a computer, taking the annual quiz that, through what was presumably blood magic, calculated their reading level, and headed over to the library’s desk.

Behind the desk sat a small, plump woman Damien could only assume was the new librarian. She honestly seemed to have been born specifically for the role, with her long, slightly greying brown hair in a neat bun on top of her head (a stark contrast to the mess of her son’s) and reading glasses that literally had a beaded chain keeping them around her neck. It may have just been the stressful morning Damien had been having, but something about her appearance and the soft looking cardigan she was wearing made him want to run over and give her a hug. As he approached, she looked up and smiled kindly, hand reaching for a well worn notebook that sat by her side. It took Damien a couple of seconds to realise what she was doing.

“Oh no! It’s fine!” he said, hands fluttering as he signed along with his speech, the movements fluid despite his nerves. “I know sign!”

Ms Keep’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Really? They didn’t tell me any of the other teachers did”

“I… don’t tend to mention it” Damien admitted sheepishly, guilt flooding him. To think that this poor woman had been here for almost a whole week, believing herself to be entirely alone in this school, adrift without a soul who could comprehend her, all because Damien was too cowardly to admit he could help her. He could feel his cheeks flushing, the back of his neck burning with the familiar heat of anxiety and embarrassment. “Of course, I should have, it seems so rude of me to leave you adrift like this, especially in an unfamiliar setting, when I could have been helping you to communicate and”

Mercifully, before his words could drown him under their weight, he was interrupted yet again by the assistant. Damien had been so caught up in his spiralling thoughts that he didn’t even notice the other man approach. This was starting to become a habit.

“She’s mute, not deaf” Arum muttered, again in the same deep, almost rasping voice. “And she does have an interpreter. I do have a reason for being here you know. We weren’t just waiting for you to swoop in like some… knight in shining armour.”

Ms Keep coughed sharply and disapprovingly, staring Arum down. Damien felt acutely uncomfortable caught between the two, especially as he was essentially the cause of this… argument? Conflict? Some kind of weird non-verbal staring contest conversation between the new librarian and her son, whose eyes were currently burning through Damien. After a couple of tense seconds, Arum huffed and turned on his heels, footsteps clacking on the hard library floor. Ms Keep let out a sigh and smiled apologetically at Damien. “Sorry about my son” she signed, “He’s…” Here she paused, searching for a diplomatic term before simply mouthing ‘Protective’. Damien smiled weakly and retreated back to where his class were still on the computers. Proper introductions would have to wait for another day. Preferably one where Arum was far, far away. For now, Damien turned back towards his students, hoping and praying that, just this once they would be well behaved, and focussed, and not show him up in front of the new staff members-

“MR ELVIS! My computer froze again! Does this mean I don’t have to do the work!”

Damien stopped and sighed, eyes squeezed shut in the vain hope that if he couldn’t see the problem, it might just… go away.

“Travis, for the last time, my name is Mr Evlavis, and no, of course not, why on Earth would that ever be the case”

He could feel Arum’s glare burning into him, even from the other side of library. This was going to be a very long hour.

~~~~

Damien didn’t usually spend his breaks in the English department’s office. This wasn’t out of any dislike for his fellow teachers of course, more out of necessity. There were always corridors to patrol, or classrooms to monitor, or clubs that needed adult supervision, or even conversations with Angelo when they were both free to sit in the staff room all the departments shared. And if it meant fewer conversations to sit on the edge of, or awkward silences in his company, well then, that was a pleasant side effect.

The day after his encounter with Arum and Ms Keep, however, Damien was sat at his desk in the office, salad in one hand and his phone in the other, texting Rilla updates on his first week back. It wasn’t often that their breaks coincided, not with his fiancée’s hectic hours at the surgery, and they treasured the times that they could sit together, connected even if they were physically apart. Damien often found himself lost in her texts, imagining her expressions as if she was sat beside him, and counting down the hours until the school day ended.

He was so caught up in the virtual conversation that he almost didn’t catch the very real one happening right beside him. Mrs Douglas had come in at some point, arms laden with photocopying she’d presumably retrieved from the library’s printer, and she was currently sorting through it, absentmindedly stapling worksheets whilst chatting to Ms Stevens. Damien wouldn’t have noticed, if it wasn’t for the sound of a familiar name cutting through the chatter.

“…dealing with that Arum again” Ms Stevens was saying, leaning up against the fridge, cup of coffee in hand. Damien had a vague memory of being offered his own cup, but he hadn’t been paying enough attention at the time, and now it was far too late to ask. Instead, Damien sat nursing a bottle of water, trying not to make it obvious he was eavesdropping.

“That is definitely something I’m trying to avoid as much as possible” Mrs Douglas replied, tidying her pile of sheets and turning to face Ms Stevens. “I was in there with the bottom set Year Sevens earlier, and I swear he was glaring at me every time I looked over! I’ve barely said two words to that man and he’s already turned against me.” Ms Stevens nodded sagely, as if all her years of teaching had left her with an impeccable ability to judge character – which, Damien supposed, wasn’t entirely false. Arum certainly had seemed fairly… prickly when they’d talked before.

“You know what?” Mrs Douglas continued, clearly on a roll now. “I was talking to Sharon earlier, from Reprographics? She said he fully snapped at her when she tried to show him how to use the printers. Apparently he’d ‘seen printers twice as complex before, and didn’t need help with such an archaic model’. Can you even believe that?”

Ms Stevens snorted in outraged disbelief. “I knew he’d be pretentious. Probably used to work at one of those private schools in the countryside. Hobnobbing with royalty”

“Maybe he’s royalty!” Mrs Douglas sniggered, and Damien couldn’t help but give a small smile from where he was sat. Arum certainly did have a very regal bearing, even Damien had noticed that. Something about the way he held himself, spine almost perfectly straight and head held high, accentuating his high cheekbones. It was easy to imagine him as some monarch from a fantasy film; ethereal, yet powerful. Something told him, however, that that wasn’t exactly what the other teachers were thinking of.

“Oh, definitely!” laughed Ms Stevens “Duke Arum of Coventry, something like that. Or a Lord!”

“Lord Arum…” Mrs Douglas said, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Suits him, the stuck up- well.”

The nickname stuck. Within a couple of days, the whole department was referring to their new library assistant as “Lord Arum”. Although Damien couldn’t deny that it was a somewhat… fitting nickname, there was a part of him that couldn’t help but feel slightly uneasy every time he heard it used. Maybe it was just him being overly sensitive, but there was something slightly cruel in the way the English teachers talked about Arum behind his back.

Still, it was all just a joke really. Wasn’t it?


	2. Chapter 2

“Ah! Damien! There you are!” Absolon’s booming voice carried across the corridor, hitting Damien almost like physical projectiles. Immediately he froze, body tensing in muscle memory, foolishly believing he was about to be reprimanded. It may have been years since Damien had been in school himself but he still carried that childish fear of raised voices with commanding tones. It took physical effort to turn and confront the head of English, smile plastered onto his face in a bid to hide the churning in his stomach.

Absolon’s expression didn’t betray much, but that was to be expected. If the frequent complaints overheard in the staff room were any indication, Damien wasn’t the only teacher in the department who had trouble reading the stoic teacher. There were rumours Absolon was ex-military, and while Damien initially dismissed them as nonsense, there was something about the way the man could command attention, not only from the students, but from staff as well. Needless to say, this did nothing to soothe Damien’s fears.

The two teachers ducked into an empty classroom, allowing the flood of students moving between classes to rush by, a tumbling tide of backpacks and bellowing. Absolon shut the door behind him, offering at least some relief from the incessant noise. Damien sighed in gratitude. He didn’t like to let on how much it bothered him, but even this simple barrier between him and the sound made it… softer, somehow. Allowed him to breathe a little easier. Face Absolon without breaking down into sobs and shaking.

Speaking of…

Absolon’s face seemed, for once, to show some sign of… kindness? Pity, perhaps? “Damien, I need to ask you a favour” he said, voice the same rumbling monotone it usually was. “That… Arum has been staying in the library after school, running the homework club and tidying up after the children leave, that sort of thing. Usually his mother would be there, but apparently she’s otherwise engaged tonight and, well, I don’t like leaving people who are this… new to the school on their own. Not, of course, that I don’t trust Arum alone but, well… you know how it is, don’t you Damien?” His eyes seemed to pierce into Damien’s very soul as the other man nodded, seemingly struck dumb. “So, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d prefer it if you stayed behind tonight. Just to keep our new librarian company. Provided you don’t have too much marking to do of course?”

Images of the piles of exercise books that littered the dining room table flashed before Damien’s eyes as he heard his mouth say, entirely without his permission, “Of course! I can handle the marking, it’s really no problem.”

It was the same every single time, as if Damien was somehow physically incapable of turning down requests from people in authority. And really, wasn’t that a good description of his life? Keep your head down Damien, do what you’re told, trust that the people in charge know best because they always know best. Have faith, Damien. Even when all else fails. Work hard, do what you’re told, and you’ll be rewarded, even if that reward comes at the price of having to spend more time with the librarian’s overly protective assistant.

Alone. After school.

What had he signed up for?

~~~~

Damien stared at the library door, dread pooling in his stomach. He’d taken his sweet time coming here: waiting until every child had left his class, tidying his desk for the first time since term had started back, even just standing in the centre of his classroom, nervously flipping a coin he’d found in the pocket of his jacket between his fingers. But he couldn’t put this off anymore. Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he pushed open the door.

Looking back on it, Damien couldn’t say what he had expected, entering the library. Chaos perhaps - or rather, given the limited interactions Damien had had with the other man, children working in fearful silence, under the glare of Lord Arum (even Damien had picked up the nickname, as uneasy as it still made him. It was easier than making a scene).

To his surprise, however, the sight that met his eyes was a fairly average one. Children were sat at desks working quietly or chatting; one table even seemed to be set up with some kind of board game that seemed to involve an inordinate amount of dice. Arum was working in the background, shelving books and occasionally pausing to talk to the children. Damien stood in the doorway, slightly stunned for a couple of seconds, before Arum noticed him and walked over to him. This was the first time Damien had properly seen the other man in motion, and his confident, striding steps only served to accentuate his distractingly long legs. Admittedly the skin tight jeans didn’t help in that regard either, nor did the tall, heeled boots Arum had decided to sport that day. None of this was strictly  _ against  _ the school’s recommendations for teachers, and as a librarian Arum was held to less formal standards, but Damien couldn’t help but feeling that this absolutely shouldn’t be allowed. 

“Are you here to help?” Arum said, rather abruptly, snapping Damien out of any clothing-related thoughts. He thought he could detect a note of irritation in the other man’s voice, which immediately sent icy fear running through his veins. Was Arum annoyed by his tardiness? Or had he noticed him staring as he walked over, and thought him rude? Or worse, thought he was staring for… other reasons…

Damien could already feel the nausea building, but he refused to let it show. Instead, he smiled widely, putting on the charm in a desperate bid to, if not win over the assistant, then to improve his mood just enough to not make the next few hours unbearable. 

“Yes, I am!” he said faux-cheerfully, hoping beyond hoping that Arum wouldn’t notice his slightly ragged breathing, or the furious fidgeting of his fingers in his pocket. Thankfully, the only response Damien received was a piercing stare and a muttered “Well… I suppose you should come in then”.

As he walked into the room, Damien was almost immediately called over by a group of Year Eights he recognised from his class the previous year. As it turned out, the yells of “Mr Elvis! We need help!” were to do with a particularly difficult exercise they’d been set by their new English teacher.

“She says we’ve got to describe a monster using only similes sir, but we don’t know what a simile is!” one of them, Harrison, was whining, slumped over the desk in his typical overdramatic fashion. Damien couldn’t help but smile as he pulled over a chair and sat at the table. He remembered Harrison’s melodramatic tendencies well, which luckily also meant he remembered how to deal with them. “Did you not go over what a simile was in class?” he questioned gently, looking to the other students around the table for assistance.

“Well, yeah, but she went really fast!” Harrison whined, voice muffled somewhat by the pencil case he had decided to face plant into. Out of the corner of his eye, Damien could see some of the other students, and indeed Arum, start to stare slightly. This needed to be dealt with before Harrison realised he had an audience; they would only egg him on, and  _ that _ was the last thing Damien needed. 

“Okay, so, can anyone  _ else _ remember what a simile is?” Damien asked, opening up the question somewhat. He was met with a few awkward coughs and averted stares before one of the other students finally spoke up. 

“It’s a comparison, isn’t it?” she says quietly, clearly nervous about speaking up. She must have been new, Damien didn’t recognise her from the previous year, hence her apprehension. Damien gave her a reassuring smile.

“It is! It’s a literary technique - so something a poet would use in their writing, or an author - that allows you to compare two things. For example,” Damien looked around the room for something to use, and his eyes landed on, where else?, the library assistant. “You could say that Mr Arum’s… eyes are as grey as steel” As soon as the words left his mouth, Damien was internally cursing. Why, why did he choose his  _ eyes _ ? For all he knew, he’d already made Arum uncomfortable by staring earlier, why did he decide to add fuel to the fire by commenting on his appearance? Not, of course, that he didn’t have particularly striking eyes. Steel wasn’t the right word for them, not now he was able to get a closer look. They were more like granite, so light they were almost tinted blue, with flecks of other colours shining through.

Now was not the time, Damien. You have students to teach.

“You’ll notice” he said, frantically trying to keep his mind on track, “that I used the word ‘as’. That’s how you can tell if someone is using a simile, if they compare something to something else and use either ‘as’ or ‘like’. Ready to try your own?” Thankfully, something seemed to have sunk in a bit better this time, and Damien spent the rest of the club creating the most hideous monsters possible using whatever similes the children could come up with, complete with drawn examples courtesy of Harrison. As they packed up their stuff and left, yelling goodbyes that drew a few looks of disdain from the older students, Damien watched them go with a smile on his face. As he turned back from the door, however, the sight of Arum made the smile fade slightly. 

The assistant was leaning against a table, long legs stretched out in front of him so far that he was, for once, at Damien’s eye level. Damien swallowed nervously. They were alone now, no struggling students or helpful librarians to provide a buffer. Just the two of them.

Arum cleared his throat. “Were those yours?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The students,” Arum said, slightly impatiently “That you were helping. Were they in your class?” Damien smiled. “No, not this year. I had them for English last year though. Well, some of them. We lost a teacher to maternity leave last year so our classes got shuffled around a bit. It was shame really, they were a good class.”

There was a silent pause, long enough that Damien had just turned to start pushing chairs under and picking up pieces of discarded paper when he heard Arum speak up. “I’m… sorry” he said, the words sounding almost as if they had been forced out through gritted teeth. Damien paused in his movements, taking time to process what he’d just heard. 

“Sorry for what?” he asked, brow furrowed in confusion. What was Arum apologising for? Surely it was Damien himself who was acting out of turn - if anyone needed to apologies it was him. Arum’s gaze didn’t quite meet his as the assistant began to busy himself with tidying, a faint flush on his cheeks. 

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” Arum snapped, before seemingly remembering what it was he was actually talking about. “I… I’m sorry I snapped at you. When we first met. It was… unprofessional”

“That’s…I mean… thank you?”  Damien stuttered, slightly taken aback. He wasn’t expecting  _ Lord Arum _ of all people to apologise for being standoffish. It threw him off slightly, and he didn’t really know how to respond, beyond fragments of garbled speech. Thankfully, Arum wasn’t done talking.

“I just… people tend to underestimate her. Keep, that is.” there was something about his tone that made Damien stop even the pretence of clearing to lean against the table instead. Arum continued, apparently oblivious. “They talk about her like she’s deaf, like she can’t even hear what they’re saying. It’s all just assumptions, they hear she’s mute and suddenly she’s an idiot, or helpless, or…” He let out a frustrated sign that almost seemed to rattle in his throat. Damien blinked, confused. “I, I certainly never thought of your mother as helpless-” he started, trying frantically to think of what might have lead Arum to such a conclusion. Damien had been respectful, had he not? They had all been, all the staff. He didn’t think he’d heard a bad word said about Ms Keep. Granted, there were the comments about Arum, but his mother?

It hit Damien then, like a ton of bricks. The way Arum had stepped in when Damien couldn’t even say the word mute, how that must have seemed so cowardly of him, to treat it like something shameful that couldn’t be spoken of in front of the children. No wonder Arum had been short with him. He wondered how many times what his fellow teachers had seen as pretension or rudeness had been an act of defense. 

“Sorry. I’m- I’m sorry, Arum.” he said, voice soft now. “I swear, no one at this school has spoken a bad word about your mother or… or about you” At this, Arum’s breath huffed through his nose, in a sarcastic approximation of a laugh. “You don’t need to lie to me” he said, in his rasping tones. “I know there’s been talk. Duke Arum, isn’t that it?”

“…Lord Arum,” Damien admitted sheepishly. To his surprise, the other man actually laughed, a loud, bitter note that echoed in the near-empty library. “Even better,” he said. “I’ve been trying to work out a way to get the kids to stop calling me Mr Arum, I think your colleagues have found the solution here!” 

“Why don’t you want to be called Mr Arum?” Damien asked, curiosity winning out over politeness for once. Arum froze, arm raised midway through shelving a book. Damien could see his shoulders tense under his jumper. Before Damien could apologise, Arum spoke. 

“I’m non-binary.” he almost hissed, reluctance almost streaming off him. 

“Oh.” Damien said.

An uncomfortable silence.

“It means I’m not a man. Or a woman, for that matter.”

“Yes, I - I think I knew that.” 

“Good.” Another silence, and then “I still use he/him though. I just… don’t like people calling me sir. Or Mr.”

“Right.” Damien really didn’t know what to say. Of course, he had heard of non-binary people; when they’d first started dating, Rilla had sat him down and talked about her bisexuality, and about polyamory, how the fact that she  _ could  _ love people of all genders, and multiple people at that, did not mean that what she felt for him meant any less, or that she’d ever get bored of him. It’d had been an… educational experience, of course, but it hadn’t covered how to react to this kind of news. Was there something Damien should say? Were there things he really  _ shouldn’t  _ say? How would he know the difference, how would he know if he said something wrong, and Arum would get upset and they’d be back to square one all over again.

The only thing he thought to offer was a confession of his own. It was only fair, after all, not leaving Arum the only one vulnerable. Besides, there was something about the other man - no, the other  _ person _ , Damien must remember that - and something about the situation, being alone in the library, after school, in the quiet, that made honesty seem just a little bit easier.

“I learnt sign as a child,” he started, stopping to take a steadying breath before continuing. “I learnt it because… because sometimes, it was… hard for me. To talk. Words would wither and die in my throat like, oh, like plants choked by weeds before they ever had the chance the bloom, their remains clogging up my throat” He was interrupted then by a strange sound coming from Arum, a puff of air like an almost-laugh. “What?” Damien asked, taken aback and, honestly slightly hurt.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Arum said, voice not betraying any hint of amusement, as he immediately sobered up. “It’s just - that was a very… impressive simile. I can see why you’re the English teacher”

Damien smiled “It really isn’t impressive. Similes are easy, after all. Were you not paying attention earlier? I know not everyone can be a poet, but everyone can write a comparison.”

“A poet?” Arum asked, “I should have guessed. You do have a very… poetic air about you.”

“And what is that exactly supposed to mean?”

Arum waved vaguely, returning to his work “You know. A bit wafty, ethereal. Delicate as honeysuckle”

Damien had no choice but to respond with a snort. It had been many years since anyone had described him as ‘delicate’. The word may have suited the small, slightly sickly child he’d once been, but puberty and an interest in rugby and archery at university had both done their bit to dissuade that. Not that Damien would exactly describe himself as large, or muscular; he was after all only 5’8”, and what muscles he had were more on the lean side, and easily hidden under the suit jackets and oversized hoodies he wore. “I don’t know where you’re getting that from, but I’ll accept the simile. Nice work there, Lord Arum.”

To Damien’s surprise, a smile actually crept onto Arum’s face. It was small, and fleeting, but unforgettable. “Thank you, honeysuckle.”

The pair of them returned to their tidying, in companionable silence, but there was a sense that something had shifted between them. It have been too soon to call it friendship, but it was definitely… something.

~~~~

“Is sign the only other language you know?” Arum asked, apropos of absolutely nothing. 

“No, actually. I’m fluent in French and Spanish, and my Latin’s alright, if a little rusty”

“So why not teach Languages then?”

The question caught Damien off guard, as he finished locking up the final door in the library. Technically this was supposed to be the job of the Premises staff, but Damien was still feeling slightly guilty after accidentally blowing up a mug of soup in the staff room microwave the previous term that apparently took all night for them to clean up. It took him a couple of seconds to realise what Arum had been referring to. It was a question he’d asked himself so many times that the answer came automatically.

“I don’t like how it’s taught. Admittedly neither do most of the MFL teachers at this school, but they seem to have more patience with the curriculum than I do”

Although Arum was seemed to be trying to maintain a vaguely disinterested expression, Damien thought he could detect a hint of confusion. A couple of seconds of awkward silence passed before-

“MFL?”

“Modern foreign languages” Damien replied, pocketing his keys. He knew he needed to start walking towards the main entrance, but there was something about Arum that made him want to linger. Another awkward silence passed before Arum spoke up again.

“What’s so wrong with how schools teach languages then?” Damien was startled by the question, searching his face for any sign of mockery, yet what little emotion he could read on his face was genuine, a curiosity hidden behind casual indifference. Damien wasn’t sure what it was about Arum that allowed him to read his colleague so easily, usually it was only Rilla whose face he could decipher. Everyone else felt… confusing somehow, their thoughts were scrawled in awful, chicken-scratch doctor’s handwriting, where Arum and Rilla were plain, printed English.

“You… really want to know?”

Arum shrugged nonchalantly, playing it off as nothing, but there was something in his eyes that betrayed him. “My bus isn’t for about twenty minutes. I could do with a distraction”

“And you’re absolutely sure?”

“Is there anything more I can do to convince you honeysuckle?” Arum asked sarcastically. Damien smiled, before launching into a rant about the sorry state of Languages teaching in England, complete with tangents about the government, international relations, and, for reasons unknown even to him, elitism in universities.

Before he knew it, Damien found himself in the car park, Arum still by his side and still with that same expression on his face. Incredibly, despite having sat through Damien’s rambling, he was still there, still with those inquisitive grey eyes that seemed to stare into his soul.

Damien ducked his head sheepishly. “Sorry, I’ve been… I’ve been rambling” he said to the ground, mentally kicking himself. He knew he got over excited about certain subjects, knew that, when left to his own devices, would go on and on whilst people who were too polite to interrupt were left bored out of their minds. And yet, Arum didn’t seem bored. He didn’t have that strange, dead look behind his eyes, nor was he looking at a watch, or smiling tightly. This was… interesting.

Before Damien could analyse this any further, a loud noise shocked him out of his thoughts. A long car horn, blasting out in the quiet of the car park. Arum jumped slightly at the noise, but recovered quickly, trying to hide his shock. The horn was followed by a yell. A very familiar yell.

“Get in loser, we’re going to Marc’s!” Rilla shouted from the window of her car. Damien couldn’t help but smile at the sound of his fiancée’s voice, even when yelled at him unceremoniously. Arum, on the other hand, was looking incredibly confused. For a couple of seconds, Damien debated not giving him any context, but that would be rather rude.

“That’ll be my ride home” he said, turning to Arum. “I guess this is goodbye?”

“Goodbye Damien. Thank you for coming to help.” 

With that, Arum walked off. Damien watched as he approached the school gates, suddenly struck by the fact he didn’t actually know how his colleague was getting home. Was he walking? Should Damien have offered a lift? Was Arum expecting a lift from Damien, and did he plan his evening around it, leaving him stranded in this town and facing an unreasonably long walk home? 

Of course not. They had barely spoken before today, and Damien certainly hadn’t been hoping for a lift from Arum, so why would the same be true in Arum’s case? Shaking off the anxious voice in the back of his mind that was on almost permanent high alert, Damien made his way over to Rilla’s car. He slid in, pausing in his movements to press a kiss to his love’s cheek. “Good evening Amaryllis, my forever flower. How are you?”

It took someone who knew Rilla well to know that the show of irritation on her face was nothing more than that, a facade put on the hide the love she really felt for her fiancé. Thankfully, Damien knew her extremely well. Well enough that he knew a wrinkled nose and an “Ew, gross, feelings” were just one of the ways Rilla said “I love you”. As the car started moving, a thought occurred to Damien. “Did you- did you say we were going to Marc’s?”

“Yes Damien, we are. And before you complain,” Rilla held a hand up against Damien’s wordless protests “It’s just to drop off some stuff he left at school. Marc had to go home early and left some work he had to mark in the office, so one of the other teachers ran it down to reception for me to pick up. Besides, we don’t need to cook tonight and I don’t have an early shift tomorrow, so we can afford to make an impromptu trip.”

Damien muttered under his breath, mostly just nonsense. It was the effect that was important, rather than any actual complaints. It wasn’t that he hated Marc; they were basically family at this point, what with Damien being engaged to Marc’s sister, and they did work at the same school, albeit in different departments. It was more that Marc and Damien didn’t… get along. Damien was willing to admit that some of their issues may have been his fault, and he had apologised profusely for saying that the Design and Technology lessons Marc taught “weren’t real classes”, but he didn’t see why Marc still bore such a grudge. At least Talfryn was… civil, although part of that was due to their shared love of fantasy films. Once you got Talfryn started on Lord of the Rings, or Narnia, it was fairly impossible to stop him - something Damien could deeply empathise with. The two of them were, in Rilla’s words, “kind of fascinating to watch”. Or, as Marc put it, “a couple of mega nerds”.

Still, a mutual obsession with elves and knights in shining armour were not enough to form a… lasting friendship. And it certainly wasn’t enough to stop Damien’s stomach from churning on the ride over, nor his fingers from nervously tapping out a rhythm on the car door. Just a short visit, that was all. In and out and no awkward conversations or opportunities for Damien to make Marc hate him even more. He could do this.

~~~~

Of course, as it turned out, “just a short visit” was Rilla code for a twenty minute catch up session. Damien knew he was screwed as soon as Marc put the kettle on. Once the water was boiling, you were locked in, at least for as long as it took to boil, make, and drink the tea. All hopes of a speedy exit died with the click of the switch. 

As soon as was possible, Damien made his excuses and ducked into the bathroom, sitting on the closed lid of the toilet for at least a minute just savouring the peace and quiet, and the comforting distance between him and Marc. Just as it was beginning to feel to Damien that he had been there for far longer than was socially acceptable, a text came through on his phone. Strangely enough, it seemed to be from Talfryn.

Talfryn Smith _ : watching hp in lvng rm w/dampierre come if u want _

You:  _ Which one? If it's Deathly Hallows I'll have to decline _

Talfryn Smith:  _ not an idiot obvs poa dampierre likes the grim _

You:  _ Running all the way _

With that, Damien slid his phone back into his pocket, washed his hands (partly out of habit and partly because weirdly enough Marc and Talfryn always seemed to have the nicest soap) and gingerly made his way to the living room.

Although he was used to Talfryn's… eccentricities, Damien had to admit that sometimes the other man really did surprise him. For instance, when Damien entered the living room, with its perfectly comfortable sofas and armchair, to find Talfryn instead lying on the floor with Marc's service dog, Dampierre, sprawled on top of him. Although Talfryn was by no means a small man, as both he and his brother were true to their Welsh heritage and built like rugby players, even he appeared to be completely swamped under his brother's Bernese Mountain dog. 

“Are… you alright there, Talfryn?” Damien asked, genuinely concerned. The thumbs up he received in reply wasn't exactly comforting, but Damien didn't want to pry. Instead he perched himself on the very edge of the sofa, trying to ignore the possible suffocation hazard in front of him, and began to watch the film.

It wasn't long before Marc and Rilla joined them, hot drinks in hand. Marc pulled himself into his armchair and smiled down at his brother lying on the floor in front of him. 

“Enjoying the film Tal? You must have seen it enough times to quote the whole thing by now” he asked jokingly

“Almost,” Talfryn replied with complete sincerity, voice muffled slightly by Dampierre's fur. “I think I've got all Sirius’ lines down, and probably Hagrid's too, but I'd need another watch to be sure.”

“Speaking of Hagrid,” Rilla said, curling up on the sofa with an effortless ease that Damien was deeply envious of, “I had a guy in today with the  _ thickest _ West Country accent you have ever heard. Hot Fuzz levels of incomprehensible, I had to get him to repeat everything about four times.” 

Marc's eyes lit up. “Oh Rilla, did Tal tell you about the crazy farmer he met the other day? Because, let me tell you, it was  _ insane _ …” As Marc launched into what was no doubt an absolutely fascinating story that definitely wouldn't be like every other mad farmer story his brother came home with, Damien allowed himself to lie back in his seat, resting his head on Rilla's shoulder. Although she continued to listen attentively to Marc, her hand found its way to Damien's hair, and she began playing with the curling strands of it. Slowly, Damien relaxed into her touch, the tension in his body not gone per se, but calmed somewhat.

He stayed like that for a while, letting the conversation wash over him in a comforting buzz. At some point, the film finished but Damien was content to sit there, safe, with Rilla. At some point she’d tugged one of Talfryn’s weighted blankets over the two of them, and the pressure of it draped over his shoulders was comforting in a way he’d never admit, especially not around Marc. Between Rilla at his side and the blanket on his back, Damien felt surrounded in the best possible way, warm and safe, like a protective bubble around him. It was almost a shame when it came time to leave, to  venture out into the cold mean world, but the promise of some well-deserved time alone with Rilla, his forever flower, was enough to drag him away. That, and dinner. Cuddles, food, and Netflix - was there any better way to spend an evening?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: The latter half of this chapter is actually the first thing I wrote for this fic! Not going to lie, I'm kind of proud of it :')

It was almost amusing, the look on Absolon’s face when Damien volunteered to work weekly after school shifts in the library. Truth be told, despite the somewhat rocky start, he was starting to like the grumpy librarian. What could have been an incredibly dull way to spend an evening turned out to be so much more bearable when it was spent with Arum. Apparently, when you weren’t inadvertently insulting him or his mother, he was actually a fairly nice person. Prickly and stubborn, of course, and fairly defensive, which did nothing for Damien’s anxiety, but he was an incredible listener. Countless times Damien had been midway through and excited speech about the nuances of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, or a rant about the absolute massacre of Ron Weasley’s character in the Harry Potter films, and stopped to apologise only to find Arum still listening attentively, ready with a question or a comment. It was a nice change from being told, politely or otherwise, to keep his thoughts to himself, or to stop going on and on about things no one cared about. Rilla often joked Damien should have been a lecturer, then people would pay him to talk at them. But even the presence of a whole room of attentive students wouldn’t have compared to the feeling in his chest when Arum sitting by his side in an empty library, actively wanting to know more about the homoerotic subtext in the Lais of Marie de France. 

Their weekly meetings became an almost soothing part of Damien’s routine. No matter what else happened during the week, no matter how chaotic school life got, there Arum remained as a constant.

So it came as a surprise when Damien came to the library one evening to find Ms Keep locking up. He was used to seeing her there, but usually it was as she was leaving for…  honestly Damien didn’t quite know where she was going. Arum muttered occasionally about her getting caught up with her friends and losing track of time, which of course lead to the absolutely reprehensible crime of being late to pick Arum up.

“Have you ever considered catching the bus?” Damien asked once, when the pair of them were standing outside the library shivering in the crisp autumn air. Arum snorted, his breath visible in the air. “Buses were designed by sadists with no sense of timing” he said dismissively before adding quietly “They don’t run very often. I’d either have to leave half an hour early or wait here for two hours.”

Damien didn’t realise what he was saying until the words were halfway out of his mouth. “You could get a lift home with us if you like, if it’s a hassle for your mother!” Arum’s face looked about as surprised as Damien was with himself. It had only been a few weeks, and he didn’t even know where the librarian and her son lived. For all he knew, it would be an extra hour of driving on top of his and Rilla’s journey. And yet, Damien couldn’t help but offer. He had spent so many years relying on others for lifts; he knew full well the frustrations of unreliable drivers. Buses were almost completely out of the question, after the memorable time the anxiety at having to get off at a request stop combined with his lingering childhood car sickness with… fairly disastrous consequences. Although Arum had never offered up a reason for his unwillingness to learn to drive, the fear and pressure of being in a moving death trap was one Damien could sympathise with well. The sooner someone invented real life Floo Powder the better. 

Although Damien’s offer was turned down that night, as it was every other time he tried, he liked to think Arum was warming up to him. Which was why it came as a surprise to see Ms Keep here in his stead, locking up the library two hours early. Surely Arum would have told him if he wouldn’t be there the next week? Or told someone in the department to give him a heads up?

Before his mind could start spinning reasons why Arum definitely hated him and didn’t ever want to speak again, Damien noticed Ms Keep rifling through her notebook. Although the two of them usually communicated in sign, especially if they needed to convey information quickly or just wanted to gossip without any children listening in (Damien did need to remember than Annie in Year Seven was also fluent - he didn’t need her knowing any more swear words in sign than she already did) occasionally the notebook would come out. Usually it would be something she had thought of earlier that day and written down for later, and sure enough, there was a message already printed in her incredibly neat handwriting.

_ Arum had to go home ill, he’s caught a stomach bug (I blame the canteen curry but you didn’t read that here) _

Even through his disappointment, Damien could help but smile. The librarian’s hatred of school meals, and her absolute astonishment as to how her son could possibly ingest such atrocities was a running joke between the three of them, and it was no surprise she was blaming it for her son’s apparent illness. As Damien finished reading, the notebook was quickly pulled away and, when it returned a couple of seconds later, there was an addition. 

_ He wanted me to give you this. It’ll save me having to deliver his condolences next time. _

Below the note was written a phone number. Arum’s. Damien’s cheeks flushed furiously as he stammered through a thank you, keying the number into his phone as quickly as possible. “Tell- tell him I’ll text him so he has mine” he said, eager to run into an empty classroom and quietly panic because apparently he was thirteen again and freaking out over getting someone’s number. Wonderful. “And tell him I hope he gets better soon,” he added, “I look forward to seeing him soon.”

As it turned out, ‘soon’ was… delayed somewhat. Arum’s sickness kept him off for two weeks, before transferring via some of the younger students (who Damien privately suspected of being the cause of Arum’s sickness as well) to most of the school, leaving them with a staff shortage that had Damien covering so many extra lessons he didn’t know whether he was coming or going. Then came mock exams for the Year 11s, which left Damien with an unreasonable amount of marking, and preparations for Christmas, and Absolon wanted him to take on a trainee in the new term despite the fact it felt like mere minutes since he was a trainee himself and…

The final day of term, Damien sent a very apologetic text to Arum

You:  _ I’m sorry, something’s come up and I can’t do a shift tonight. I’ve let Mr Absolon know _

Ignoring the pain in his stomach and the nausea coursing through his body, Damien walked almost on autopilot to the bus station. The ride home was a blur, his head so filled with spinning thoughts that he didn’t even have the capacity to feel anxious about the journey. Instead, all he could feel was a deep and yearning desire to come home, curl up under his duvet with his fiancee and sleep for the next two weeks. The stress of the past few weeks had been building up under his skin like a storm brewing the horizon, and now it was time to take shelter. Two weeks of not worrying about anything more than how much turkey he could consume, or whether Rilla liked the Periodic Table mug he’d brought her (Even if she didn’t, he knew she’d love the books he’d brought her. She’d picked them out specially for him to buy her, to ease his concerns and guarantee she’d have a present she loved - Damien had insisted on it)

Damien studiously ignored the small yet insistent part of him that wanted to invite Arum too. He just missed the grumpy assistant, that was all. It had nothing to do with how easy it was to be around him, or how, even though they had never even brushed past each other, Damien had a ridiculous desire to be wrapped up in Arum’s arms.

It was nothing, after all. Just touch-starved and anxiety driven fantasy. But it didn’t stop the thoughts in Damien’s head.

~~~~

The Christmas holidays were fairly uneventful in the Evlavis-Smith household. Besides the usual traditions of midnight mass for Damien and Christmas dinner with the family for Rilla – Marc made his usual sarcastic remarks about Damien at any given opportunity, but Talfryn did give him a keyring shaped like the One Ring so it wasn’t all bad – the pair of them mostly spent their time off lying around watching Netflix and eating chocolates. Even the dreaded return to normality was softened somewhat by the happy arrival of a non-pupil day.

Non-pupil days were, in Damien’s humble opinion, a blessing. Thirty minutes of training on whatever issue the higher ups had picked out of a hat, a brief meeting with the English department debating whether there was enough in the budget for a school trip to Stratford-Upon-Avon for the Year 11s (Damien was strongly in favour, Absolon was… less so) and then the rest of the day was his.

The rest of the department had come to the agreement that the best way to get things done was to leave Damien to his own devices and interrupt his process only in case of emergencies (or to retrieve the whiteboard markers that seem to migrate between classrooms like birds moving south for the winter) And so Damien spent his day taking down the Christmas decorations, reorganising cupboards, and listening to whatever playlist Rilla lovingly threw together out of music she had been trying to get Damien to listen to for months. Although he’d never admit it, there was always something immensely satisfying about being able to get everything straightened out, neat and organised – even if it would last all of about two minutes once the students arrived the next day. He was so lost in the work, his mind fading into a pleasant numbness at the repetitive tasks, that the sound of a throat clearing startled him into dropping the staple gun he had been holding.

Arum was standing in the door, cheeks strangely flushed, as if he had been exercising, or perhaps had gotten a tad overheated. The latter was probably the most likely – although Arum’s long grey fluffy cardigan looked incredibly comfortable, it was clear no one had told him that the premises staff had fixed the heating problems by making the school essentially into Mordor.

“Can I help you?” Damien asked him with a smile, pushing his reading glasses up his nose from where they had apparently slid without his knowledge. Arum remained in the doorway, staring at Damien, a pile of books held loosely under one arm. A couple of seconds passed, just long enough for Damien to start worrying if he’d said something to offend, or had done something foolish, or had-

“I’m looking for books” Arum blurted out, words tripping over themselves before he stopped to compose himself. “Library books. Some of the other teachers have been clearing out cupboards, they’ve found some books children have left. I need them back.”

“Ah” Damien turned back to his desk, upon which he had stacked a neat pile of various novels he’d discovered hidden amongst the school’s seemingly endless supply of copies of ‘Of Mice and Men’ and ‘Lord of the Flies’. “Then these must be yours then” As he moved to hand the pile to Arum, he paused, noticing the number of books the librarian already had balanced him his arms. “Are you alright with these? I can take them over for you if you’d like, it’d be no trouble”

“I’m fine.” Arum said abruptly, almost snatching the books out of Damien’s hands and adding them to the already precarious looking pile. “What kind of a librarian would I be if couldn’t handle carrying a few books? Just because I don’t look like some… bodybuilder, it doesn’t mean I am completely helpless”

“Of- of course” Damien replied, taken aback slightly. Immediately he began to panic. What had he said wrong? Was it improper to offer help? Was Arum offended by the suggestion that he might be weak? Had Damien really sounded like he thought that?

Before his thoughts could spiral any further, he was interrupted by Arum clearing his throat – or possibly coughing, Damien still couldn’t quite tell. He had clearly turned to leave in the time Damien had spent internally screaming, yet he lingered in the doorway as if something had stopped him in his tracks.

“Your… hair” he muttered

“What about it?”

“It’s longer”

Damien smiled yet again, tucking an errant curl behind his ear. Although it had only been about a month since he decided to start growing it, he already had a couple of inches of curls poking out around his ears and flopping into his eyes. Rilla had sarcastically offered a bandanna, and at this point Damien was sincerely considering it.

“That it is. Rilla’s been convincing me to grow it out for months. I figured if you could pull it off, then, well, it might be worth the try.”

“It looks… nice. On you.”

Now it was Damien’s time to blush – he could feel his cheeks beginning to heat as he blinked slightly in confusion, not sure how to react to a compliment from Arum.

“Why… thank you.” He said with a slight chuckle. “I’ll have to tell Rilla her advice has paid off. After all, a compliment from Lord Arum himself must be high praise indeed.”

Both he and Arum were sporting identical blushes, avoiding eye contact as the other man reshuffled the books in his arms and left, muttering something under his breath that Damien didn’t quite catch. He stood in the doorway to his classroom and watched as Arum walked back towards his library, remaining, even after he had disappeared behind its doors, though he couldn’t think why.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update - Monday was a bit of a mad day for me! I promise it'll back to your regularly scheduled posting after today, but for now, enjoy :)

The spring term had finally begun, bringing with it one of Damien’s favourite days in the entire school calendar - World Book Day. Rilla often joked he looked forward to it even more than he did Easter, something Damien fervently denied of course. Not that it wasn’t a very close run thing - having to weigh up copious amounts of chocolate and a very religious upbringing against a celebration focussed entirely on books was a tough call. What made it even harder to decide was the way their school celebrated it.

The Citadel Academy, for all its flaws, did get World Book Day right. The entire English department came decked out in costumes from their favourite books, as did the Year Sevens and Eights. Although a lot of the students made fairly half hearted attempts - coming in wearing non-uniform didn’t count as a costume in Damien’s eyes, no matter how many excuses he heard - it was always lovely seeing the ones who made the effort. Besides, the teachers usually made up for their student’s lack of enthusiasm by getting… slightly carried away.

Damien was, of course, no exception. This year, he had pulled out all the stops, dressing up as Legolas. Rilla had already made all the obligatory archery jokes, as well as playing “Taking The Hobbits To Isengard” whenever he entered a room, but it did nothing to dampen his spirits. Over the course of the year he’d gathered together the costume; although the main outfit had been brought off the internet, Damien had added his own touches. A satchel full of 'Lembas bread’ (homemade pitas - considerably less magical), hand made arrows, even his own leather bracers. They had been a gift from Rilla on their first anniversary, and the leather was decorated with intricate patterns. Damien loved them.

He wasn't alone that year in going all out with his costume. One of the other English teachers had created an impressive Miss Havisham outfit, with a tattered, yellowing wedding dress she later told Damien had been found at the back of the costume cupboard in the Drama department and a wig that had been backcombed and filled with talcum powder 'dust’. Apparently she even decorated her classroom to look like Miss Havisham's chambers, using leftover cobwebs from Halloween. There were even some impressive costumes among the students. A boy in Year Eight won the prize for best costume for his surprisingly, and honestly quite disturbingly, accurate Perseus costume, complete with a mannequin Medusa head. Privately, Damien thought the best costume belonged to the Year Seven who had turned up in their pajamas and dressing gown with a towel and a Kindle, claiming to be Arthur Dent, partly because he had done the same thing when he was younger and his mum forgot she needed to make him a costume. He liked to think his cosplay skills had improved somewhat since then.

As well as the costume competition, the school put on other activities throughout the day. Damien spent his break in one of the science classrooms, making 'magical potions’ with the Science department and some wide eyed 11 year olds who were still slightly bitter they didn't get their Hogwarts letter. Lunchtime found him finally making his way towards the library, to help Ms Keep with the quizzes she was running.

As Damien pushed through the library doors, arms full of packets of sweets to hand out as prizes, he was met with seemingly countless yells of delight. At first he assumed it was the sweets - if there was one thing he'd learnt in his years of teaching it was that kids would do anything for chocolate- but the sight of Arum made him realise what they were actually yelling at.

The assistant was dressed almost entirely in red, from his tights to his tunic, even his nails were painted scarlet. But the most impressive part of the ensemble was the waistcoat. Arum had covered it with fake jewels and gold jewellery, with a small spot left uncovered just over his heart. A pair of red wings had been tied to his back, made from what looked suspiciously like bits of umbrella, and his face had been painted with red and gold scales. All in all, a fairly impressive Smaug costume.

Damien couldn't help but smile. Arum had been refusing to let Damien even guess what his World Book Day costume would be, even though Rilla had told him Damien's months ago. The two of them often ended up chatting when she came to pick Damien up - if you could call good natured arguments about science that went completely over Damien's head ‘chats’. He was just happy to see them getting along, even if he absolutely could not follow their conversations. Arum was quickly becoming important to him, in a way Damien hadn’t expected, but deeply appreciated.

Damien was less appreciative, however, of the smug look on Arum’s face. Clearly he had chosen his costume specifically because he knew Damien had gone with the Lord of the Rings, and yet…

Arum had clearly put a _lot_ of work into his outfit. Sewing all the decorations on to his waistcoat alone must have taken forever, not to mention the effort put in to make it book accurate, instead of just copying the film. The makeup was incredible. He’d seen something similar before, the way the red and gold eyeshadows painted onto his cheeks shimmered and blurred into each other, fine black lines marking out the mock scales on Arum’s face. The sharp eyeliner made his eyes look angular and draconic, and unfairly attractive. Suddenly Damien felt incredible self-conscious, acutely aware of his cheap costume and plastic wig, even if it had been restyled by Rilla, who refused to let him out of the house with it until she’d had a go at it.

“Nice costume” Arum said, clearly holding back his laughter. Damien felt his cheeks began to burn but he held his ground, stubbornly refusing to look like an idiot in front of the students - or, at the very least, not any more of an idiot.

“I could say the same to you” he replied, keeping his voice as steady as possible. “Although if you wanted to match, you should have gone with Gimli. We could have done a proper couple’s costume”

Now it was Arum’s turn to blush, only slightly visible under the glitter on his cheeks. “I wasn’t going for a couple’s- I just like the books!” he blustered. Damien raised his eyebrows in surprise. They’d discussed Damien’s mild obsession with fantasy before, but Arum hadn’t mentioned liking any of it. To be quite honest, Damien didn’t remember asking, but still. He didn’t know whether to feel slightly hurt or delighted that they had something in common.

“You like Tolkien?” he said, exaggerating the disbelief in his voice. “Really? And you just never mentioned it before today?” Damien snorted, savouring the indignant look on Arum’s scaled face. “I bet you only ever watched the movies. I refuse to believe you’ve read any of the books.”

The look on Arum’s face was absolutely priceless. All traces of smugness had been completely wiped, replaced with the same kind of look Rilla got when Marc claimed she wasn’t tough enough to eat something spicy, or Caroline’s face when Angelo had mentioned his title as reigning push ups champion of the PE department. Damien had played him, like the cheap kazoo he was.

“I’ll have you know” the librarian hissed, sounding even more like the dragon he was dressed as. “I have read the Silmarillion. Don’t you _dare_ call me a fake fan!”

“Then prove it!” Damien said, smiling widely, still completely confident. Arum may have read the Silmarillion, sure, which admittedly did mean he was a little more prepared than Damien had assumed, but Damien had been living and breathing Tolkien since he was a kid. His entire life had been leading to this moment, all those nights reading under covers, lunchtimes spent hiding in the library with a book, they were all about to culminate in a battle - nay, a duel.

“You, and me. Kahoot. Now. Prove yourself, Lord Arum.”

“You’re on.”

~~~~

Damien won, of course. To Arum’s credit, he did know his stuff when it came to the books, even more than Damien did in some areas, but the quiz they’d picked used questions from the movies as well,. Even the victorious Damien had to admit this was a bit cheating, seeing as how it transpired that Arum hadn’t actually watched them, preferring the books instead. Besides, he looked so devastated, and it had been so fun finally going up against someone who had the same level of passion and interest in the series as he did, that Damien couldn’t help but offer up a rematch after school. Entirely book based, selected by Ms Keep beforehand as an impartial judge, as fair as Damien could make it.

Arum, of course, won.

As predicted, he was insufferable over it, gloating like he’d won a million pounds. In an attempt to put an end to the celebration, Damien swiped the victor’s phone, holding it above his head - which admittedly wasn’t quite as effective as it could have been, given the height difference between the pair. Arum lunged after his phone, giving chase as Damien sprinted away across the library, vaulting over tables and ducking around aisles of books.

It was a fairly even chase, both running for their lives, until Damien’s foot slipped on the cloak he’d abandoned earlier. He span as he fell, twisting his body to land on his back. Above him, Arum’s foot caught against the shelf next to them and collapsed as well, landing on hands and knees above Damien. They paused, both panting quietly from both the shock and exertion, sharing the space between them.

The moment felt so soft, so fragile, that Damien was almost too afraid to speak too loudly, or move too suddenly. Something precious hung between them, something he couldn’t quite explain but ached to understand. Arum’s hair hung around them like a curtain, brushing softly against their cheeks, closing them off in their own bubble. Damien couldn’t see the rest of the world - didn’t need to, not really. Not when he could stare into those striking grey eyes.

“We seem to be… very close, Arum” Damien said, voice breathy and stilted. Arum’s cheeks flushed. Over the course of the day, his make up had smudged slightly, removing the harsh edges of his eyeline and blurring the lines of his painted on scales. It was like his features were gentler now, soft as the moment they were sharing.

“So… so we are” Arum’s voice sounded just as strained, his breath still ragged even though they had stopped running. For a couple of seconds the two of them lay there, painfully aware of every place they touched, every point of contact between their bodies. Damien felt himself leaning ever so slightly towards Arum’s face, eyes suddenly heavy, mouth slightly parted. There was a tension in the air, rising almost imperceptibly, and Damien wasn’t sure if he should be terrified or elated. Everything seemed to be in slow motion, the world was slowing to halt, and then…

The moment was shattered by a voice. Rilla’s voice, to be precise, calling out into the library.

“Damien? Damien are you in here?”

Arum blinked, as though waking from a daze. “Is that- is that Rilla?” he asked, voice even lower than usual, almost as if it hadn’t been used in weeks.

Damien nodded. “She was here with work, the Year Elevens had their tetanus injections today. She agreed to come pick me up afterwards. I told her to meet me in here once she was done. Is that… okay?”

He didn’t know why he was asking, it wasn’t like this was the first time Arum and Rilla had met. Hell, it wasn’t even the first time Rilla had come into the library with them, she often got bored waiting in the car if she’d managed to get off work early. But this time felt different somehow. More… intimate.

“It’s… fine.” Arum said, voice still hushed.

“We should… probably move” They were, after all, in a fairly… compromising position. Lying on the floor, Arum on top of him, almost hidden from view behind the stacks in a way that almost looked like they were trying for subterfuge and had failed. And yet, Damien couldn’t find it in him to move.

That is, until the sound of Rilla’s voice rang out once again. Her shout sent a bolt of electricity through him, and he scrambled to his feet, just as Arum did the same. As he stood up, Damien caught sight of his fiancée over the aisles of books, and his heart swelled the same way it always did, always had, ever since they first met. Even the guilt swirling at the back of his mind couldn’t outweigh the way he felt around her. When she looked over and saw him, and her face broke into a relieved smile, Damien’s breath caught in his throat.

“There you are, you nerds” Rilla laughed, dumping her stuff onto a table and walking over to where Arum’s victory was still displayed on the library computer. “Nice work, Lord Arum”

“It was nothing” Arum muttered, and Damien couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“An incredible understatement there, Arum!” he said, moving over to the computer himself to show Rilla the results of their quiz. Although it was a tight run thing, Arum had been in first place the entire time, consistently beating Damien to the punch. He wouldn’t let his friend downplay his achievements like this.

Rilla, however, didn’t seem impressed. At least, not outwardly. Damien had known her for long enough that it was clear she was putting on a front, teasing Arum goodnaturedly. It was how Rilla showed affection, as Damien had come to learn, the side effect of growing up with older brothers and a constant need to prove herself. He could almost predict the next words that would come out of her mouth.

“We’ll have to test him further Damien, this might just be a fluke” Rilla smirked, already searching for a new quiz. Arum sighed dramatically but moved closer regardless, already unlocking his phone for another round. As the quiz Rilla had chosen loaded onto the screen - by the looks of it, some kind of botany based test that Damien already knew he would be completely useless at - the three of them settled into the uncomfortable plastic chairs that Damien swore multiplied when no one was looking.

It wasn’t long before the quiz dissolved into yelling and sabotage and the two players arguing not only with each other but whichever “idiotic black thumbed numbskull” wrote the quiz in the first place. But among the chaos, Damien sat, completely content to be here with these two mad incredible people. The two most important people in his life.

It struck him then, just how much Arum had grown to mean to him. In such a short time, the two had grown close, almost as close as he and Rilla were. Not of course, that his feelings for Arum were anything like how he felt about Rilla. Of course not.

It certainly wouldn’t explain the disappointment that bloomed in Damien’s chest whenever Arum wasn’t there, or the way his heart skipped a beat when he was treated to one of the librarian’s rare smiles, or that moment on the floor of the library when time stood still. It would never, in a million years, offer an answer as to why, in this moment, seeing Arum and Rilla side by side, laughing and yelling together, felt so indescribably right.

The realisation hit him like a ton of bricks, like a bucket of ice water thrown over him. The pulling in his chest, the dizzy feeling overwhelming him.

He was falling for Lord Arum.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

He was falling for Arum.

And yet, at the same time, there was still Rilla. Beautiful Rilla, intelligent Rilla, whip-smart and yet the most caring person he had ever met. Rilla, who had come to his rescue more times than he could count, saving him from the demons inside his own head. He would never dream of being unfaithful to her, never in a thousand years, but there was no denying the feelings in his heart, the divide that felt more like a connection, two puzzle pieces coming together as one.

His new - Damien didn’t want to call it a crush, that seemed far too childish a word, an insufficient description for the flood of affection in his veins, but whatever it was, it had grown alongside his love for Rilla. Intertwining, but not choking. Close, but not consuming. A delirious part of Damien’s mind couldn’t help but think of the old story, the honeysuckle and the hazel grown inseparable. The irony of the symbol wasn’t lost on him, of course, but nothing else could describe the way he felt. 

The way Damien saw it, he had two options. Confess his feelings, even though he wasn’t even sure himself what was happening and was honestly terrified of the consequences, or keep them to himself. Keep going like nothing had happened, enjoy what he had without being greedy and demanding any more. He could be satisfied with friendship, with the occasional brush of hands or longing look. He could ignore the way that his heart burned when Arum was around, how the floodgates holding back his affection had suddenly and violently burst. This was enough. This  _ was _ enough.

The lie was taking a toll on Damien. Every morning he was waking up with an uncomfortable nausea in the pit of his stomach, one that only grew as the day went on. He was waking up earlier as well, beating his alarm with such regularity he started not setting it at all, working on the assumption that he’d be long awake anyway. His work didn’t suffer, if only because he threw himself into it as a distraction, spending every waking minute marking or planning or asking round for jobs that needed doing, anything really. 

Things were different with Arum too. Neither of them mentioned the moment in the library, and at first, it seemed like they would be fine, that Damien could keep his feelings tucked away inside him, and they both could banish any thoughts of soft gazes and shared breath. Until things changed once again.

Not long after World Book Day, Ms Keep fell ill. She had been complaining before about hayfever, that it was nearing the time of year when both she and apparently Arum would be carrying more hankies up their sleeves than an amateur magician, but it was still unexpected. The first Damien heard of it was a text from Arum, sent just as lunch was drawing to a close.

Lord Arum:  _ Can you come round after school tonight? Keep’s gone to the doctors, I need someone to lock up _

Although Damien’s mind immediately leapt to conclusions, imagining the poor lady on her deathbed, rushed to the local hospital in an ambulance with sirens blaring, the truth was considerably less dramatic. Arum filled him in that evening, letting him know that there wasn’t anything to worry about, it was just a particularly bad bout of sinusitis. 

“She’s had it before, it’s nothing serious” he grumbled, running over the notes she’d given him for her absence. “Just a headache, some facial pain, so much mucus I swear it’s going to end up sentient”

Damien couldn’t help but smile at the thought of sentient piles of snot, like hideous little helpers. It sounded like something out of a kids’ movie, or a very odd game of Dungeons and Dragons. Arum’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes suggested that, despite his worry and exhaustion, there was a smile in there. 

Arum’s smile would become increasingly rare over the next few weeks. Ms Keep was completely bedridden, apparently too weak even to stand long enough to shower, and all her duties as librarian had been handed, of course, to Arum. He was doing the work of two people, and naturally only being paid for one. Even with Damien coming by almost every evening, occasionally even bringing Rilla in to lend a hand, the stress was still taking its toll. Arum was even more snappy than usual, patience worn so thin it was practically translucent. 

“It’s absolutely ridiculous!” Mrs Douglas complained, her statement met with a murmur of agreement from the other teachers in the staff room. “He snapped at the students twice today, nearly made Caleb Michaels cry, poor thing. Someone needs to tell that man he can’t treat the children like that.”

“He’s not a man” Damien mumbled, voice barely audible. He was mostly ignored by the others, all too engrossed in their gossip, but he couldn’t  _ not  _ say anything. It was true Arum had been grumpier, had even yelled at Damien a couple of times in the past week, but he always apologised afterwards, made it clear how guilty he felt even through the overwhelming exhaustion. He was trying _ so hard _ , and the fact that Damien’s colleagues could even see that was infuriating. 

To Damien’s surprise, he heard someone calling out for him. “Hey, Damien, you spend a lot of time with him. How do you cope with Lord Arum’s temper tantrums?”

That was the limit. Damien had been keeping his head down, laughing along awkwardly with the jokes and gritting his teeth through the insults, but he just couldn’t anymore. They were talking about the person he… cared about, trivialising his pain and complaining about him behind his back for the thousandth time, knowing full well they would never dare confront him about it. Damien wouldn’t stand for it any longer.

He stood up straight, turning to face whoever had been talking to him, taking a deep breath as he did so. “I talk to him like he’s an adult, funnily enough” he said, voice cold and harsh in a way he didn’t know he’d been capable of. “Turns out, when someone is doing the work of two people, and caring for their sick mother - not to mention worrying about her health every moment he’s away - it makes them a little stressed, and a little more likely to snap. And, incredibly enough, if you talk to them about it and help them ease the stress, you can avoid their - what was the word you used gain? Oh yes, temper tantrums.”

Damien’s hands were shaking, his heart was pounding in his ears like a drumbeat, but it was impossible to stop now. All his indignation, his pent up anger, mixed with the guilt that had been weighing on him whenever he held his tongue, it was all flooding out now, like a pebble starting an avalanche.

“Arum has been nothing but a hardworking, dedicated member of this department - both him and his mother, and yet none of you have offered either of them even the  _ slightest  _ amount of respect. All you’ve done is talk about them behind their backs and exclude them from any conversation. So, yes, I have been spending a lot of time with Arum, and yes, I enjoy spending time with him, because surprisingly enough, he’s a fairly decent person when you actually treat him like one.” Damien finished, chest heaving now, not from anxiety but from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. As he stood there, trying to collect himself, he noticed the stony silence that had fallen over the room. At first, it seemed as if they were just dumbfounded at what Damien had said; it had after all probably been the longest they’d heard him speak for. Then he realised that everyone was staring at something just behind him. Or rather, some _ one _ . 

Mr Absolon cleared his throat with a short, sharp cough, and Damien's heart plummeted. It was one thing to go on a righteous tirade in front of his colleagues but this was different. His boss, the man who he had trained under and whose word had become like gospel to him over the years, had just heard Damien rant about the very behaviour Absolon had done nothing to curb - had encouraged even, now Damien thought about it. Never openly of course, not like the others, but his silences spoke more than words, and the stony expression on his face now spoke volumes. 

“Mr Evlavis” Absolon's voice was like steel, cold and cutting. The way he spoke, combined with the fact that he was using Damien’s surname, did not bode well at all. Every part of Damien was screaming at him to run and hide, to apologise profusely for all he had said. But a different part of him, a small but persistent voice that had gone ignored for so long, would not let that happen.

“Mr Absolon” he replied, trying his hardest to keep his voice level. 

“What, may I ask, was that?”

Damien took a deep breath. “I was defending a friend, sir. A friend and fellow colleague, who I feel has not been given the respect he deserves from this department. I won’t stand by and let this continue any longer.” Before Absolon could even open his mouth, Damien had turned on his heel and left the room, abandoning his lunch and phone, heading straight for the library.

Although it was lunchtime, the library was fairly quiet. It was a bright, sunny day outside, and even the most dedicated were taking advantage of the weather. Arum was sat at the desk, presumably enjoying the first opportunity he’d had to sit down in hours, but as soon as Damien came through the doors he stood up, concern clear on his face. 

“Damien? Are you alright, honeysuckle?”

His words, the worry evident in them and the nickname that had grown from a joke to a real term of endearment, were too much for Damien. His face crumpled, and hot tears started welling in his eyes. Almost immediately, Arum was by his side, as swift and silent as he always was. His arms wrapped around Damien, deceptively strong despite all appearances, and Arum gently guided his friend towards the library’s storage room. There, crouched among stacks of Lord of the Flies and spare paper, Damien sat, shaking like a leaf in a stiff breeze. Arum stayed with him, clearly out of his depth, but trying so hard nonetheless. His quiet voice and soothing touches helped to draw Damien out of his spiral, grounding him in the moment and letting him focus enough to calm his breaths. 

Having someone with him who understood sign was a godsend. It was so much easier to spell out his feeling with actions and movements than relying on his unreliable voice. Eventually, Damien had calmed down enough to explain the situation to Arum, as much as it pained him to do so. The whole time he was explaining, Damien couldn’t shake the fact that he was essentially saying Arum was the cause of his distress. He was so worried that Arum would tell him he was being ridiculous, that Arum didn’t need Damien to fight his battles for him, that he would have been better off not saying anything. 

He needn’t have worried.

“Damien, I… Thank you” Arum said, once Damien had finished his story. Damien looked up, confused. 

“What you did for me, standing up to those teachers? It was… insane, admittedly, but… it was also the kindest thing anyone’s done for me” his voice was so soft, and proud, and even through the aftermath of his awful break, Damien couldn’t help but feel a swell of affection. In that moment he realised that, even sat here feeling weak and shaky and generally awful, even after having essentially yelled at his boss, given the choice, Damien would do it all over again, if it meant he could hear Arum say those words again. He was in deep with this person, deeper than he thought was possible with anyone except Rilla. Which was why, in that moment, Damien made a decision. 

He couldn’t hide this any longer. He was going to tell his fiancée about his feelings. 

~~~~

Another week went by before Damien had the chance to talk to Rilla, or at least talk to her for more than a quick conversation before school or over dinner. This was something that needed preparation, needed a special time set aside.

He spent the first week of the Easter holidays drafting and redrafting a speech. It seemed silly, childish even, but there was something soothing about the forethought. Going in with a script, and idea of how things would pan out helped soothe the uncertainty swimming around his mind. If he could practise his words, work on the tone and the phrasing so there was no confusion or anything that could come off as insulting, then he could get through it.

To Rilla’s credit, she handled being sat down in their living room with a request not to butt in or interrupt fairly well. Damien faintly remembered her saying Talfryn had done a fairly similar thing when he came out to his family as aromantic, but with the added bonus of Marc sitting behind him, acting both as support and protection, just in case. Damien was going in alone, but somehow that wasn’t as terrifying a prospect as it sounded. He trusted Rilla, and knew she trusted him in equal parts. Or so he told himself, stood before the love of his life - or, possibly, one of the loves of his life, only time would tell - with flashcards in his hands. 

“Rilla, my Amaryllis, my forever flower. I must speak my heart” he began, the same practised words he had used when he asked her to be his girlfriend, and later to be his wife. Hopefully they would help put her mind at ease the same way they did his. Her expression was still open, a supportive if slightly confused smile on her face. Taking a deep breath, Damien continued. 

“Although I love you more than words could say, more than poets far more talented than me have been able to express, I must tell you that I... “ here he faltered slightly, but pressed on nonetheless. She had to know, he couldn’t keep this from her. “I have… developed feelings for someone else. As well.”

Before Rilla could say anything, Damien continued, anxious to get to the explanation, to reassure her of his fidelity (if that was even a concept that applied here). “This is not to say that I love you any less, you must understand my feelings for you have not diminished in the slightest, this new love would never overshadow the light you bring to my life in every day, but… I also love another.”

He paused, trying to allow his heart to slow, keep the tightness creeping up his throat at bay. Rilla took the opportunity to give him a reassuring smile and, when several seconds passed and Damien was still floundering, she spoke up.

“Damien, I understand. I’ve told you before, I know how it feels to love more than one person, you don’t have to reassure me that you’re still mine. I know that, Damien. Don’t worry.” Rilla smiled mischievously. “So, who’s the lucky lady I get to share you with?”

The tight feeling in his throat was becoming unbearable, but Damien still had to speak. “It’s… not a lady. It’s Arum. I… I love him Rilla.”

The words felt like a relief, a weight Damien didn’t even know he’d been carrying lifted from his shoulders. Without even realising, he’d closed his eyes, body tensed and face scrunched up. It was only when he felt Rilla’s arms around him that he began to relax, melting into her embrace.

“It’s okay, Damien,” Rilla murmured in his ears. “I’m so proud of you for telling me. You’ve done amazing sweetheart, amazing.” She pulled away just briefly, tipping Damien’s chin up to meet his eyes. Her smile had gone from reassuring to something almost unreadable, and Damien was just about to ask what it was, when Rilla spoke.

“It’s kind of funny, now I’m thinking about it but… you know how I’ve been going round to Arum’s? To check up on his mum, give him a hand with stuff while she’s ill?”

Damien knew all too well. As soon as Ms Keep fell ill, they’d both volunteered to come over whenever, to help with whatever needed doing. While most of Damien’s work was confined to what he could do at school to help out, Rilla’s medical expertise had meant she could be more of a help at their home, giving advice and generally keeping Ms Keep company on her days off when she would have been left alone in the house. Rilla had even learned some sign, expanding on what she had already picked up thanks to her brother, and Damien knew she genuinely enjoyed her visits. The two women had really become close - Rilla was even allowed to call Ms  _ Marigold  _ Keep by her first name, a privilege Damien was far too nervous to ask for.

“Well,” she continued, taking Damien’s hand in her own. “I’ve been spending a lot of time with Arum too. And I’ve had a lot of time to think, and talk to Mari about things and, well. I think I’ve fallen for Arum too.”

It was so matter-of-fact, such a Rilla way of saying it, that Damien couldn’t help it. The stress and relief and adrenaline still in his veins were all too much. He burst into laughter, dissolving in Rilla’s arms, as she joined him. The pair of them must have looked ridiculous, bent double in their living room, almost crying with laughter, but Damien didn’t care. This was the happiest he had felt in a long, long time. Standing in the home he shared with the woman he loved, bonding over the person they both adored - Damien was tranquil at last.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Damien had to wait until they went back to school to talk to Arum. He wanted to meet up during the holidays - sit down in a café somewhere, or do like he did for Rilla and confess in his living room with a speech, but between Ms Keep’s slow but steady recovery on Arum’s, and visits both to Rilla’s adoptive parents and Damien’s family on theirs, not to mention a surprise trip to Tintagel to see King Arthur’s birthplace (that Rilla insisted wasn’t anything to do with what Damien told her, not at all) the three of them were kept incredibly busy.

The same was unfortunately true once term started. It sounded paranoid, but Damien was sure Mr Absolon was trying to keep him away from the library by any means possible. His classes in the library were mysteriously re-roomed due to “other teachers needing the space”, and he was kept busy through both break and lunch with a pile of marking Absolon had ‘found’ for him to do. It wasn’t until the very end of the day, when the students had finally piled out of his classroom complaining about having to do a full day of work for the first time in two weeks, that Damien could finally get away. Nothing, not hell nor high water nor all of Absolon’s might could stop him as he walked towards the library, almost running in his haste to get there.

As it was the first day back, and Ms Keep was still not quite up to her full strength yet, they had decided to try and get the library tidied as quickly as possible and head off home. And so when Damien burst through the library doors, there were no students in sight. In fact, the only person there was Arum himself, tidying away a pile of paper and colouring pencils clearly abandoned by whatever class had been in before (Damien hated to play into stereotypes but the colouring pencils usually meant it was Angelo’s geography class). It had been two whole weeks since the two had seen each other, and the relief that coursed through Damien felt almost like a drug, leaving him giddy and lightheaded. 

“Damien?” Arum said, carefully putting away the detritus in his arms and walking over. “We’re not doing a shift tonight, remember?”

“I know, I just…” he had practised this so many times in his head, why were his words failing him now? “I wanted to talk to you. Alone. About… well, you see… the thing is…”

His mind was completely blank, everything he had prepared completely wiped. Arum was standing before him, confusion clear on his face, but Damien didn’t know what to say. 

“I… Arum, I” a deep breath, and then, finally, “I have feelings for you. Romantically.”

“Oh.” Absolute dread spread through Damien at the reply, settling like a rock in the pit of his stomach. Of course Arum wouldn’t feel the same, he didn’t even know if he liked men, and even if he did, why would he ever fall for Damien of all people? Damien who already had a fiancée he’d somehow convinced to tolerate him, who was reduced to a nervous wreck at the slightest confrontation, who would ramble on about topics absolutely no one cared about for hours if left unattended. Why would anyone be glad that this mess had feelings for them?

His distress must have been clear on his face, because Arum moved towards him, hand resting on one of Damien’s arms.

“Damien, I… That wasn’t a bad oh.”

“It… wasn’t?”

Arum shook his head, a small but unmistakable smile on his face. “It wasn’t. I… have feelings for you too Damien. Romantically.”

For the first time in his life, Damien was absolutely lost for words. So, in an incredibly uncharacteristic move, he abandoned them all together.

It was true, the old saying, about actions speaking louder than words. Because the way Arum melted into his embrace, soft lips parting as they met, meant more to him than any poem. For a first kiss, it was more incredible than Damien had ever imagined. The slight awkwardness of two people kissing for the first time soon melted away, as Damien rose up to meet Arum. 

The kiss could have lasted a moment or an eternity, Damien couldn’t tell. Little things like the concept of time really didn’t seem to matter anymore, not when he had Arum here, close and warm and  _ finally _ his. He was so caught up in the moment that he let out an involuntary whimper when Arum pulled away. 

“Wait…” Arum said, voice somehow even lower than usual. “Rilla…”

Damien smiled up at him. “Rilla knows. She’s absolutely fine with this. In fact, she’s more than okay”

“What do you...oh” Comprehension dawned on Arum’s face, quickly followed by a smile that made Damien go weak at the knees. 

“Well,” he said, pulling Damien close once again. “In that case, I think we should call  her up. Just for a lift, of course.”

“Of course…” Damien repeated dumbly, transfixed by the movements of Arum’s mouth. It felt like second nature, to reach up and wind a hand through Arum’s hand, pulling him back down into another kiss. He knew that later, there would have to be discussions; boundaries had to be set, feelings had to be laid out. But for now, he was here, and Arum was here, and they were together, and that was all Damien needed. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the final chapter! Don't worry, there will also be an epilogue posted on Monday, along with some incredible art drawn for this fic by some Very talented artists!!

Damien was surprised just how the three of them fit together. Arum became so much a part of their lives that it seemed like he’d always been there, sprawled on the sofa making sarcastic comments, or sat leaning against Damien doing his very best to distract him from the marking that needed to be done.

The little trio celebrated many firsts together that term. First kisses, first dates, the first time waking up next to each other in a tangle of limbs and blankets, filled with a warmth that seemed to encapsulate Damien’s entire being.

That morning was also the first time Rilla drove them both to school, quieting Damien’s protests with the claim that it was ridiculous to expect them both to pay bus fares when there was a perfectly willing driver on her day off who could take them.

Damien called shotgun as soon as the car was in sight (as the rules dictated), with Arum grumbling good heartedly as he slid into the back seat along with several piles of marked exercise books. Rilla took her place at the wheel and, somehow with such speed that Damien didn’t even notice her doing it, plugged her phone in to the AUX cord and began to play her music. The indignant look on Damien’s face sent her bursting into laughter, even if it was completely justified.

“That is cruel, and unfair, and you knew full well it was my turn!” he said in mock indignation, while Arum looked on, a mix of confusion and affection clear on his face. “There is an order to these things! An-“ Damien broke off into laughter to match Rilla’s, scrolling through the playlist she had selected. It was, rather appropriately, labelled ‘car jams 2k18’, which made Damien smile even wider. The amount of times he’d sat next to Rilla listening to these songs, belting out lyrics to bad 90s pop and musical theatre.

As if on cue, the first few notes of One Day More filtered through the car’s speakers. Damien groaned as Rilla laughed maniacally beside him.

“Why. Why does this song come up every single time we’re in the car” he moaned dramatically, as Rilla attempted to drown him out with her best Hugh Jackman impression. In a desperate attempt to gain some kind of reinforcements, Damien turned around in his seat to appeal to Arum.

“Arum, my darling, love of my life and fire of my heart, please tell Rilla that Do You Hear Hear The People Sing is _clearly_ the superior Les Mis song?”

Rilla snorted. “Arum, tell Damien there is nothing more iconic than One Day More! Especially as a sing a long! It has earned its place on this playlist, and he knows it!”

Damien opened his mouth to argue but stopped when he noticed the expression on Arum’s face. He seemed almost awkward, or maybe uncomfortable. Rilla, noticing the pause, glanced up into the mirror. “You alright back there Arum? Too afraid to tell Damien he’s wrong?” There was another short pause before Arum spoke up “I’ve… never watched Les Mis. Or heard any songs from it.” He confessed.

Rilla burst into renewed laughter. “Seriously? You’ve never heard Les Mis? Ever? What were you even doing with your teenage years?” Although Rilla clearly found the situation hilarious, Damien was more concerned. They had been together for weeks now, and although Arum assured them that he also understood the importance of communication in a relationship, Damien still couldn’t shake the fear that something would go wrong, that he would insult Arum, or neglect Rilla, or the two of them would realise that they were better off without him. No matter how unfounded the fears may be, no matter how many times his partners would reassure him, the fear lingered. And it was that exact fear that prompted Damien, in a halting voice, to speak out. “Arum… is our music boring you? Would you like us to change to something you know?”

Arum’s expression shifted into a small smile. “No, honeysuckle, it’s fine. I was just feeling slightly… ashamed of my lack of musical knowledge. That’s all. In all honesty, I’m enjoying the music, even if I apparently should have listened to it years ago.” As Damien’s eyes met his, his expression softened. “Thank you for asking though Damien. I… appreciate it.”

At that, Damien had to turn back round in his chair, hiding his wide smile in the crook of his elbow. The song played on in the background but the three of them were content to sit silently and just listen.

That is, until S Club 7 started playing and Damien and Rilla promptly lost their minds.

The rest of the journey was filled with over-enthusiastic bad dancing, off key yelling, and Arum’s many and varied looks of confusion, horror and quiet affection at the crazy people he’d chosen. By the time they reached school, Damien’s earlier worry had faded completely. Rilla pulled the car into a space, and Damien into a goodbye kiss as he fumbled with his seatbelt. As they pulled away, he could hear Arum grumbling something about “tooth-rotting sentimentality,” but a quick glance was all it took to see the smile still on his face. His partner clambered out of the car, piles of books in hand and bag slung haphazardly over his shoulder. He moved to walk away from the car but was stopped by a yell from Rilla.

“Hey, Arum! I see you trying to sneak off! You aren’t getting away that easily, come back here!” Arum turned around, confused, and Damien watched as Rilla beckoned the librarian back over to her open window and, once he got within reach, pulled him down into his own kiss. Although he resurfaced blushing furiously, it was clear even to Damien that Arum appreciated the gesture. Damien took his partner’s hand and together, they walked towards the school.

~~~~

It was a couple of weeks before anyone said anything.

At least, before they said anything to Damien's _face._ God knows what Arum had heard, or what had been discussed in classrooms or WhatsApp groups that were always fervently denied whenever Damien questioned anyone.

He had been living in a state of bliss so perfect, it really was inevitable that something would come along to ruin it.

It started with nothing more than a routine observation, one of the Geography teachers sat at the back of his class taking notes while he attempted to wrangle a bunch of rowdy 14 year olds into sitting still and writing a short story about the best meal they had ever had. Damien swore the writing prompts for GCSE English got more ridiculous every year, but his was not the place to argue with the all-knowing exam board. All things considered, the lesson went fairly well, with only two pens thrown and minimal swearing, and as Damien ushered the students out of the door, he felt a sense of satisfaction. Turning back towards his classroom, he grinned at the teacher who had been observing him.

“You’re in Angelo’s department aren’t you?” he asked with a pleasant smile, hoping to hide the anxiety that churned in his stomach. No matter how many of these he had, no matter how well behaved the children were, Damien still hated having someone in his class, just sitting there, judging him, reporting all his flaws back to the higher ups.

He… may have been overthinking things.

What didn’t help the nerves, however, was the tight smile he received from – god, he wanted to say Mr Michaels? Mr McGee? It definitely began with an M, that much he was certain of. Although they hadn’t exactly interacted much before, Damien would have said they were on good terms. Which didn’t explain the expression the other teacher was wearing.

Damien noticed the man’s eyes weren’t quite meeting his, and traced his line of sight down to the desk beside them. More specifically, to the photograph he’d recently placed there, framed and in pride of place. It had been taken about a week ago, at a food festival held in town. He, Arum and Rilla were sat in what could only be described as a comically large deck chair, on the brink of completely collapsing into each other but still smiling, grins visible even under Arum’s large floppy hat. The photo was a snapshot of happiness, of love and joy, and every time Damien’s classes were getting the better of him, it was a welcome reminder of the people who loved him.

It was strange then that this teacher would be looking at it with such discomfort.

It was only a quick thing, he left soon afterwards, and Damien would have almost forgotten about it, if it wasn’t for something else that happened not long afterwards.

He was in the staff room before school had started, preparing revision materials for his tutor group. Exam season was rapidly approaching, and Damien was probably the only person more stressed than his students, or at least that was how it felt. It wasn’t helped by the fact that this year, his tutor group, the students he’d been working with since Year Seven, were the ones going through this. Needless to say, being at school from 6:30 in the morning was becoming his daily routine.

Damien wasn’t alone in the English office, there were other teachers sat around drinking coffee or checking emails, but the room was quiet in a way it rarely was. The knock at the door rang out into the quiet, muffled through the door but still loud enough to startle Damien out of the trance like state he had fallen into at his laptop.

Stretching enough his entire spine cracked, Damien ambled over to the door, expecting a tearful Year 11 or, if he was really lucky, one of his Year Sevens holding their overdue homework. Instead, he was greeted by a much more welcome sight. Arum stood at the door, Tupperware in hand and a small but unmistakable smile on his face.

“Rilla said you forgot your lunch,” he said, holding out the container that Damien could now see was full of pasta and salad. “We had extra”

“You had extra?” Damien asked, eyebrow raised as he took the container from Arum’s hand “Or did you make extra this morning?”

The way Arum muttered and flushed slightly all but confirmed Damien’s theory. “I am, of course, eternally grateful” he joked, turning to put his new lunch into the fridge. “Oh, I nearly forgot! Rilla can give us a lift tonight if you want to come for dinner? It’s lasagne again I’m afraid, if your delicate palate can handle the same dish twice in a row”

“I’m sure I’ll survive” In an uncharacteristic show of affection, Arum reached out to grab Damien’s hand as he turned back towards the doorway and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Don’t work yourself too hard, honeysuckle. Have a break every now and again. Come down and see me.”

Damien’s smile grew soft. “I will.” He was about to add something, a pet name or just a quiet “I love you”, but as he opened his mouth to speak, he noticed Absolon approaching in the distance. Hastily, Damien dropped his partner’s hand, mouthed a quick “He’s coming, sorry!” and straightened up as the head of English approached. Arum stared for a couple of seconds, something that looked worryingly like confusion and hurt in his eyes before turning to walk away. Damien felt the tightness in his chest from nerves and guilt, but had to turn his eyes towards his boss. Who was currently looking at him with a disapproving expression that struck fear into Damien’s stomach.

“Damien. We need to talk.”

~~~~

Damien could faintly hear Rilla’s keys turn in the door, but he had absolutely no energy to move. His head was cushioned in Arum’s lap, cheeks rubbing every now and again against the soft material of his partner’s skirt. Beside him lay a pile of half marked exercise books he was “banned from touching for at least twenty minutes”, but the sight was growing blurry as his eyes slipped further closed, not helped by the way Arum’s fingers were carefully carding through his hair.

Dimly, he registered the sound of his fiancée’s footsteps tapping through the hallway, pausing for a second as a muffled thump indicated her bag had been unceremoniously dumped on the floor. They had been living together for so long now that Damien could trace her steps even now. Bag in hall, keys in the dish by the door, then shoes off and left just inside the living room and finally the traipse into the kitchen, shedding her raincoat as she walked, mind focussed on the cup of tea that was waiting for her. Sure enough, the familiar yell of “Ta Damien!” carried through into the living room, closely followed by the woman herself, cradling the hot drink like it was a lifeline. The exhaustion on her face melted into something Damien was too tired to decipher as she took in the scene before her.

“Rough day?”

“You can say that again.” Arum’s voice rumbled through Damien as he burrowed his face deeper into his partner’s lap. He really didn’t feel like explaining right now, didn’t really feel like speaking at all. All he wanted to do was curl up with someone warm, for Arum to keep up the pressure against his scalp until everything faded away and he didn’t have to think.

Thankfully it seemed Arum was willing to do all the talking for him.

“It was Absolon” he said, and Damien could hear Rilla’s sign, muffled though it was by the fabric surrounding him.

“Bloody hell, what did he say this time? I swear if he makes one more comment about Marc, I’ll…”

“It wasn’t about Marc” Arum said, quietly, with the same cold anger that had almost scared Damien when he’d admitted earlier what was in his heart. “It was about us.”

It was interesting, Damien mused, how different his partners’ reactions were. When Arum was angry, truly angry, he was like ice, a crackling frost that burned slowly and painfully, creeping across the room and spreading until it was inside you, sunk deep into your bones. Rilla, by contrast, was fire, bright and hot and burning, unmistakable and loud where Arum was subtle and cutting. Even in his current state, with cotton wrapped around his brain and his eyes burning and welling up with fresh tears, Damien could feel them sharing in this moment, in the outrage and anger.

When she finally spoke, Rilla’s voice sounded odd and tight, in a way usually reserved for when people insulted her brothers. “I swear to God I am going to kill that man some day,” she spat, “What did he say?”

“I’m… not sure” Arum replied, fingers still stroking Damien’s head but lighter now, preoccupied with the discussion. “Damien wouldn’t give too many details, but… I got a text from him that just said ‘I’m sorry’. Came here to find him having a panic attack over a pile of marking. All I managed to get out of him was it was something about his new relationship being ‘too much of a distraction for him and the students,” His hand disappeared from Damien’s hair just for a second to add air-quotes to his statement, although Damien felt that the sheer venom in his voice when he relayed Absolon’s words was enough to get his point across. “and possibly claiming I was only with him to keep my job now that Keep’s off sick. Although I’m not entirely sure on the last one, he seemed to also be saying something about the two of us eloping without him, but that may not have actually been a quote from Absolon.”

Although Arum’s voice remained relatively calm throughout, there was a dangerous undercurrent below it, like a riptide masquerading itself as still water. Damien curled further into himself, shame coursing through his body. It was all his fault, he wasn’t being professional, he shouldn’t have expected one wonderful, incredible person to want to stay with him, let alone two, he was being ridiculous…

He didn’t even register that his fingers were digging into his forearms until he felt Arum gently prising them away. He opened his eyes, blinking away the tears, and was met with Rilla staring down at him. Her expression was so soft, it was hard to remember the anger that had been present just seconds ago. It was enough to tip Damien over the edge into tears.

“I’m, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” he gasped, voice cracking from disuse and despair. “you don’t have to be here, you don’t have to be with me, you can go, you can leave me, I won’t-“

“Damien. Honeysuckle. With all love and respect, that may be the most ridiculous thing you have ever said” Damien’s ramblings were brought to a halt both by Arum’s voice, and his partner’s hand returning to Damien’s hair, resuming their movements. “Meeting the two of you, having this relationship - it’s the best things that has ever happened to me” This was met by a snort and eye roll from Rilla, and Arum smiled before continuing. “We are here, with you, because we both love you, and each other, and you know as well as we do that those things are not, and never will be, mutually exclusive. No matter what anyone – _any_ one, Damien – tells you, that will never change.”

Rilla lowered herself to kneel at Damien’s level, reaching out to stroke his cheek. Damien leaned into her touch, just as he had done so many times before, the soft pressure feeling as though it was drawing out his fears.

For a moment the three of them remained just like that, the room quiet and calm, broken only by Damien’s laboured breathing. Their bodies connected through soft hands and shared breaths, forming a bubble of safety that nothing could break. Here there were no disapproving looks, or pointed comments, or doubts. Here, Damien was safe, safe in the knowledge that he was loved.

~~~~

At Rilla’s request, Damien called in sick the next day. The pair spent the day curled up on the sofa, binging Netflix and drinking more hot drinks than a hipster in an artsy coffee house, occasionally pausing to read Arum’s increasingly sarcastic and frustrated texts as he dealt with various members of the English department. When he walked through the door at the end of the day, all it took was one look at the irritated expression on his face for Rilla to peel aside the blankets and tap the sofa beside her, inviting Arum to join their pile of blankets and limbs. As he snuggled in beside them, wrapping his arm around Rilla and stretching so his hand could play with Damien’s hair, Rilla spoke up.

“Damien, Arum and I were talking last night.” Immediately Damien began to stiffen as a familiar tension wound its way into his muscles. “Not like that love, don’t worry. We just…”

“You need to go speak to someone about Absolon,” Arum interrupted. “I’ll come with you, god knows I’ve had enough of his bullshit, but you need to say something too. Rilla’s been telling me about all the… all he’s done, and someone needs to say something.”

They talked for hours that night. Between discussing what had happened to Damien, Arum explained about all the comments he had been subjected to, the cutting looks and constant interrogations over the smallest infractions. It felt like a kick to the stomach, Damien thought, having to sit and hear his partner, the person he loved and admired, detail the many times Absolon had held ‘random’ checks of the library’s stock, or reprimanded Arum for his nails, or his make-up, digging up archaic dress codes none of the female teachers had to abide by. Rilla had her own stories to tell, not just the condescending looks she was subject to, but the constant barrage of remarks Marc had dealt with over the years, his complaints falling on deaf ears, because who would believe such accusations made against one of the school’s most established teachers.

But it was a necessary pain; Damien could see that now. All the little things he let slide, or ignored, because he’d assumed his mentor would know best. Because the people in charge always knew best. Because speaking up was terrifying when you were safe but only barely. There was so much Damien had escaped by virtue of being in Absolon’s good books, by forcing himself to fit the narrow parameters of ‘acceptable’, and it was only now he was seeing through new eyes. People like Arum and Marc didn’t even have the luxury of pretending that he did. Even though it made his insides cramp and bile rise in his throat, he had to do this.

And so, come Monday morning, Damien found himself outside the headteacher’s office. Like a scared kid, waiting for punishment. But this was different. He had Arum by his side, and he had Marc waiting in the technology office with cups of tea, and Angelo with his secret stash of biscuits, and he had Rilla on speed dial ready to yell at people over speakerphone if needed. He had support, and he had people whose opinions of him _mattered_ who thought he was brilliant and worthy without the added _but_ , the hidden conditions. He had people counting on him to use what had kept him safe to protect them too.

And so, taking a deep breath, Damien knocked. 

 


	8. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is! The final chapter! Before we start, I just want to thank a few people. The first, of course, being the incredible KARIN and Bri, organisers of the Penumbra Mini Bang- without you guys not only would this fic not have happened, but I wouldn't have found the incredible community of writers and artists that make up the Bang Discord, who have inspired me to get back into writing and have supported me through so many dumb questions about wording and the constant barrage of extracts :') You guys have all been amazing and I love y'all So Much
> 
>  
> 
> Secondly I'd like to thank my INCREDIBLE artists, hisvioleteyes and alec-draws, who have produced some beautiful art for this fic! You can find Alec's art in the introduction (I've retroactively added it) and Martin's art in this final chapter, as it actually provided the inspiration for this epilogue! It's been an honour working with you both, and I greatly appreciate the work you've done for this fic!
> 
>  
> 
> Finally, thank you to my beta, ginnie_darling, aka PRivateBi right here on Ao3. Without your comments of validation (and much needed suggestions for edits!) this fic wouldn't be here today :') Thank you So Much!!

Damien didn’t notice how late it had gotten until he blinked and realised their living room was almost pitch black, lit only by the soft light of the television screen and the scented candle Rilla had set down on the coffee table. The soft scent was filling the room, a fruity smell that claimed to be the physical manifestation of “baby’s laugh”, much to Arum’s disgust, and frequent complaints that “you can’t market candles as smelling like an intangible concept”.

He was lounging across the opposite end of the sofa to Damien, gangly limbs spread every which way, pressing his partners into the arm of the sofa. Although Rilla had made a half hearted protest, Damien couldn’t really find it in him to care. The pressure of being held between Rilla and the furniture was strangely soothing, and Arum’s odd position allowed him to stretch his arm across the top of the sofa, tangling his fingers in Damien’s hair and gently scratching across his scalp. Or at least, it had been until Arum had dozed off; now his hand was nothing more than a comforting weight on the top of his head.

Next to him, Rilla sat, still engrossed in the film that was playing - even Damien forgot what they’d put on, he’d stopped paying attention about three films ago, when Arum’s hand first made it into his hair, and Rilla had entwined her fingers with his. Now, everything was warm and soft, and Damien just felt so content.

It was a much needed comfort, this movie night slash cuddle session. The past few weeks had been insane, between the exams and the general end of term stress. Then there was Absolon - the endless talks with the headteacher, with the governors, even with members of the teacher’s union. It had been such a long, and arduous process, but it was over now. Come September, Mr Absolon would officially retire from teaching. It wasn’t a perfect solution - Rilla was still bitter about the fact that he wouldn’t receive any kind of disciplinary measures but Damien was just happy he’d be gone. It had been unbearably awkward in the English department, to the point where Damien spent every break and lunch either in the library with Arum or the staff room with Angelo, who was being extraordinarily supportive, even if he was a little confused. Damien had sat down with him to explain his new relationship, and what that meant about him and his sexuality, and he liked to think at least some of it had sunk in. If not, well, he had made flashcards. Let it never be said that Damien didn’t provide his students with resources.

Damien was interrupted from his thoughts by Rilla shifting against him, moving to rest her head on top of his. He allowed himself to return to the moment, to stop focussing on memories of the stares he was getting from fellow teachers, or the conversations that went quiet when he walked into rooms. Instead, he concentrated on the moment. The warmth from the mug of hot chocolate he had clasped in his hands, the weight of the blanket draped over him, Rilla, and, by the look of things, half of Arum, and the low buzz of the film’s soundtrack, volume turned down as soon as Arum’s eyes started to droop.

Now wasn’t the time to worry about the future. It was time to appreciate the present. The time he could spend with the two people who loved most in the world, people who, incredibly enough, loved him back. Damien lay back on the sofa and smiled. No matter what happened next, he had this. And that was all Damien needed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is! If you want more fic, check out my Ao3 or go over to my tumblr, where I'm currently doing the Bad Things Bingo, so if you want to send me any prompts for Bouquet hurt/comfort, check out the card here ( http://shutupeiffel.tumblr.com/post/183023833589/badthings#notes ) and send me an ask with your requests!

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone's interested in more about this AU, feel free to message me on Tumblr at shutupeiffel - I had so many ideas that I couldn't fit into this fic alone, and I may or may not do a series of one shots in the same universe :)


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